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FOREWORD BY 

MERLE ST. CROIX WRIGHT, D. D. 



BATTLE CREEK. MICHIGAN 
1913 



763^3 



COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY 
E. F. S. BURDGE 



JAN 29 It) 14 

A861884 



FOREWORD 



FOREWORD 

The poems that follow were writ- 
ten in the last five years of the au- 
thor's life, facing the prospect of a 
certain death, under the handicap of 
total blindness. They were the safe- 
guard and the relaxation of a mind 
accustomed to activity, and the im- 
provement of its final opportunity 
for service. As such they are in 
need of no apology, but with this ex- 
planation, may be more sympathet- 
ically received and %mderstood. The 
fruit of talent, untechnical in form> 
but clever in conception and construc- 
tion, they are most versatile in in- 
spiration. Always clear, the thought 
and feeling are often very fine, the 
translation of a sane attitude towards 
life. 

In humor and geniality, also, they 
show distinct success. Manifestly, we 
find here an efficient nature, original, 
courageous, capable of communicat- 
ing the emotions it has experienced. 
Friends will be delighted with this 
memorial of brave accomplishment, 
and strangers must respect the 
breadth of sentiment, the ingenuity, 
and the just thought expressed. 

While in no way claiming for 



this little volume a permanent place 
in poetry, I feel confident that it will 
yield a genuine human joy and ser- 
vice to others, as it has to me. 

Separation from the manuscript 
precludes quotation or mention of 
favorite titles, but I have read all the 
poems, and at least a dozen and a 
half of them, in part or in whole, are 
noteworthy, a good proportion in 
any poetic output. 

I write this foreword in simple 
justice towards one not known to me, 
who, in life's heavy handicap, ran 
well, and showed true form in the 
defeat of death. 

MERLE ST. CROIX WRIGHT, 

C ontr exville , France. 
July, 1913 



INTRODUCTION 



INTRODUCTION 

The poems that make up this little 
volume were written by my husband 
as a diversion, without thought of 
publication. During the last five years 
of his life his eyesight began to fail 
him, the shadows finally deepening 
into total darkness. His career as 
an active business man had cut him 
off in greater part from the com- 
munion with Nature which had filled 
his earlier life, while it had deprived 
him of opportunity for meditation, 
which to him was a spiritual neces- 
sity. Now, however, shut out from 
the activities of his former life, he 
saw again the glory-tinted sunsets 
of his childhood and wondered; the 
soft twilights touched him again 
with their mystery; in spirit he per- 
ceived the mists that hung high up 
the mountain side; he knew again 
the ways of the wood, and trembled 
before the mighty roll of the waves. 
His reflections, too, took a more ser- 
ious turn. Man, the nature of him 
and his destiny, his laughter and 
his tears, was also a never-ending 
subject of contemplation, while he 
had his gayer moods that enlivened 
his hours while they enriched his 
personality. 
11 



This life was bound of necessity 
to express itself, and this it did in 
the poems that follow, poems which 
gave voice to his conviction of the 
reality of man's inner life and of the 
things of the spirit, as expressed in 
this wish concerning his verses: 

Perchance I may light up a soul 
That gropes in darkness on its way ; 

My wave of thought may onward roll, 
Despite the rocks that bar my 
way. 

My husband was born March 30, 
1 2>4 3, in Wayne, Steuben county, 
New York, on an eminence that com- 
manded a scene of surpassing beau- 
ty, a landscape that embraced fertile 
fields, wooded valleys, winding 
streams, placid lakes, with the beau- 
tiful blue of the sky above. 

Owing to the protracted illness of 
his father, he was forced out into the 
world and obliged to give up his 
preparation for college and learn the 
masons' and builders 1 trade of his 
father, later on becoming an expert 
mechanic. Thus from the very be- 
ginning his outward career was 
strangely at variance with the ideals 
which were his inner self. 

In time he entered the field of life 

12 



insurance and came to be recognized 
as one of the prominent insurance 
men of New York City. His activi- 
ties in this field, together with the 
attainment of the highest degree in 
Free Masonry, brought him into con- 
tact with all classes of people and 
made him unnumbered friendships. 

My husband cared not for the 
beaten paths. His ways and words 
expressed themselves in striking orig- 
inality that seemed as a splendid 
background for the expression of his 
sympathetic nature. For love dom- 
inated his whole life. u His love for 
humanity was his God." 

He passed out of this life in the 
Holy Week {April iy) of 1905 at 
Brooklyn, where he had spent the 
greater part of his days. 

In choosing the poems which 
make up this volume, I have en- 
deavored to select those which rep- 
resent my husband's varied moods, 
from the philosophic and the abstract 
to the playful and human, and it is 
my hope, as it would have been his, 
that they may impart to the reader 
the same courage that the thoughts 
and emotions expressed therein in- 
spired in him. 

E. F. S. BURDGE. 



13 



CONTENTS 



CONTENTS 

PHILOSOPHICAL 

One's Thoughts 23 

Vibrations 24 

Genesis and Evolution 25 

Life 26 

Stillborn 27 

Pessimism and Optimism 28 

Doubt 29 

Ishmael's Lament 30 

Sail On 31 

God's Acre 32 

The Dead Actor 34 

An Epitaph 35 

A Funeral Address 36 

A Log 37 

Wants Are Not Needs 38 

Look Up 39 

HUMANITARIAN 

Hymn of Humanity 43 

Wickedness of War 45 

LOVE 

The Hidden Dart 49 

The Love Song of a Sprite 50 

To 51 



17 



CONTENTS— Continued 

When This You See, Remember 

Me 52 

Incense 53 

Thine Admiring Hand 54 

Hope's Promise 55 

Love and the Lion 56 

Love 57 

CHILDHOOD 

An Epigram 61 

To Baby Norma 62 

The Child is Father to the Man . 63 

HUMOROUS 

A Country Courtship 67 

The Rivals 68 

To an Old Maid 69 

Girls of My Boyhood 70 

The Sleigh-Ride 71 

Dollars and Sense 72 

Heartburn 73 

NATURE 

The Three Birches 77 

May-Day Morn 78 

The Mariner's Observation 79 

Tempest-Wrecked 80 



18 



CONTENTS-Continued 

The Whippoorwill 81 

The Egg of the Mocking Bird ... 82 

The Drumming Partridge 83 

To a Fledgling 84 

The Thunder Heads 85 

A Summer Evening 86 

Twilight 87 

Sunset 88 

A Snowflake 89 

The Harvesting 90 



19 



PHILOSOPHICAL 



ONE'S THOUGHTS 

If one be not inspired 

To cheer the heart that seldom 
sings, 
And soul too often tired, 

One knows not why one writes 
these things. 

Yet ever comes to me the thought 
That lifts me high my travail o'er : 

To us, Love's lamp is brought, 
All bright and beautiful before, 

That we may lead the weak who 
grope 

From darkness into light and hope. 



23 



VIBRATIONS 

There is no tone launched from the 

bell, 
That all diverging doth not swell 
Throughout the universe, a knell; 

No raptured note in song, 
Nor whisper aye that doth not wake 
All stilly nature and o'ertake 
On endless shores the waves that 
break 

From tempests loud along; 
No human breath that doth not bear 
Unto Omnipotence the prayer 
For life immortal, from the heir 

Dependent on God's grace. 
And so through Spirit vibrates 

Thought, 
Divine Intelligence in-wrought, 
Which order out of Chaos brought, 

And lit the realms of Space. 



24 



GENESIS AND EVOLUTION 

Hail to thee, queenly Sea, all hail! 
Thy wondrous waves enshrine the 
Earth- 
When first they rose, kissed by the 
Gale, 
Thy quickened soul gave Neptune 
birth; 
Then died the Gale, from whose last 

breath 
Came gentle Winds — life out of 

death! 
Crowned by the Winds the new god 

sate 
On throne of foam in regal state; 
And Naiads came, of gracious mood, 
To serve their lord ; then came the 
Plan- 
Embodiment of spirit, good, 
Essence of All — evolving Man! 



25 



LIFE 

What is this life? 
Life is experience — nor more 
Than much acquaintance, o'er and 
o'er, 

With love and strife ! 



26 



STILLBORN 

Naught of Creation ever dies! 

In all the world there is no place 
For aught that does not change, and 
rise 

All spirit-rapt, all in God's grace. 
Each soul a bud is born, alone, 

Alone to stand, nor prone to fall; 
And though it go in breath unknown, 

Its essence lives through ages all. 
What though it fail to blossom here ? 

Its germ though of the living past, 
Shall nurture find on other sphere, 

And there its bloom and fruitage 
cast. 
And on, with joy, through space 
and time — 

The measure of eternity — 
Throughout the universe, sublime — 

Immortal still, beloved shall be. 



27 



PESSIMISM AND OPTIMISM 

Where now I seem a dream — may be 
I soon shall be a memory ; 
Unhappily and finally 
No thought of me! 

Yet, dreaming of myself I see 
Emancipation — Liberty 
And happily, and finally, 
I shall be free. 



28 



DOUBT 

The hardest link of life all know- 
Is that we grope in here, 

The while we tread this earth and go 
Confused in hope and fear — 

It is the doubt that wears us out — 
And kills us here ! 



29 



ISHMAEL'S LAMENT 

If I am not the child of sin, 
I am a waif adrift by fate ; 
Else why this desert-thirst within, 
And hungering with the pang of 
hate? 
All waterless, the waste before 
With scorch of sun seems me to 
scorn, 
'Mid cactus thorns that wound me 
sore; 
Why husks for me, for others 
corn? 
None meet me e'er but to reprove, 
And aim at me the scourging rod, 
Nor love — save mine own mother's 
love — 
O Abraham, thou man of God! 



30 



SAIL ON 

Sail on, my soul, o'er life's great sea! 
My heart thy frail though buoyant 
bark, 
'Mid worlds that star Immensity, 
Nor Ararat yet for thy ark, 
Sail on. 

Sail on! God's beacon smiling o'er 
Thy onward way, though winds 
may wail, 
All brightly beams through mists 
before — 
Fear not in darkness, nor in gale — 
Sail on. 



31 



GOD'S ACRE 

No grave-yard sod 

O'er lifeless clod 
Of them "Beloved" and "Now With 
God" 

Is dear to me; 
But where they dwelt and justly trod 
With velvet foot or iron shod, 

Spots sacred be ! 

Nor storied stone, 

Erect or prone, 
Can be their monument alone 

Of lasting praise ; 
But deeds of love and mercy shown : 
Those who forgive and who condone 

Shall live always. 

Why sorrow round 

The soul-less mound 
Or mausoleum, ivy -bound, 

Above the pall, 
Where Silence seals the lips of Sound ? 
The whole earth is Man's burial 
ground — 

God's Acre all! 



32 



The kindred earth, 
Where Death and Birth 
Linked hands enmesh in all its girth, 

This orb mundane, 
Where Life is Love, nor Death is 

dearth 
But constant Change unwombing 
Worth- 
Man, born again! 



n 



THE DEAD ACTOR 

Death is the ever shifting scene 
In Life, the drama ever on ; 

The curtain drops the acts between ; 

Exit the Actor, the audience gone, 

The while it turns its back, and lo! 
Because it does not see him yet, 

Retires in silence, row on row, 

Mayhap to mourn, perchance 
forget ! 

He played his part, nor mimics more ! 

His time was come, his turn to go, 
Nor hence but here, the lights before, 

In Nature's cast himself to show. 

Ay, Life is a continuous play ! 

The universe a boundless stage; 
The audience changing every day, 

Both old and young, where Youth 
and Age 
Take parts, while seeing others make 

Their entrances and exits, all, 
In r61e to laugh, in turn to quake — 

A comedy with tragic fall ! 



24 



AN EPITAPH 

Mayhap some little flower will grow 

Above my desert clod, 
Serenely sepultured below 

This consecrated sod, 
And if such flower perchance you see, 

Accept it as a gift from me. 

Take it, or leave it, as a sign 

That still I live, a soul, 
And that no grave could me confine, 

No fate my ghost control: 
For I was born with spirit-breath 
To live alway — to rise o'er Death. 



35 



A FUNERAL ADDRESS 

Why shed the tear 
Beside the bier 

That bears this broken clay? 
Why mourn him dead 
Whose breath hath sped, 

Who hath not gone astray ? 
Do all not know 
That none can go 

Hence from this mundane sphere ? 
Nor hence the soul 
To reach its goal 

Of heaven when heaven is here? 
This earthly frame 
Is but the name 

Of Him in whom we move — 
The part that lives 
Of God, who gives 

Nor takes away His love. 
Man's birth, in breath 
And walk and death, 

Is set for mortal eye, 
Yet may we see 
Love's mystery, 

Of Life, before we die, 
As all, perforce 
Must die, in course 

Of Nature's perfect plan, 
And sequent be 
Divinity — 

God, in the perfect Man. 



36 



A LOG 

First entry on Ambition's log : 
"Sailed out into a boundless fog. 
With Faith for compass, Hope for 

chart, 
My crew my hands, my mate my 

heart." 

Last words that blot the final page : 
"My cruise is o'er from youth to age; 
Would I have braved it had I thought 
What cost me all, might bring me 
naught?" 



37 



WANTS ARE NOT NEEDS 

Sleep on thy wants; they are not 
needs 

That rise through nature, craving, 
But wishes vain that Fancy breeds, 

Their loss thy gain and saving ! 

Wants are ephemeral, and die 
From scorn and inattention; 

But needs necessities imply 
That brook no contravention. 

Sleep on thy wants, ne'er more alive 
Than when thy needs debating ; 

Wants will expire where needs sur- 
vive 
The test supreme — thy waiting. 



38 



LOOK UP 

Look up ! The sky is bright, 

Despite the clouds, and glad; 
The day succeeds the night ; 

Why thou, the while, so sad? 
Tears are of life the showers ; 

No clouds, no tears to fall, 
Nor watered soul — no flowers; 

Nor aught, with sunshine all! 



39 



HUMANITARIAN 



HYMN OF HUMANITY 

God of the Universe, 

Were Death not Life for aye 
To me, how dire a curse, 

Created but to die! 
On this terrestrial ball, 

The seasons illustrate 
The birth and death of all 

In Nature, Thy estate; 
Birth is of Life the flower, 

And Death the perfect fruit; 
Both branching from one power, 

Each springing from one root. 

From Thee all things have grown; 

Of them Thou art the heart; 
In Thee I trust, alone, 

Of Thee I am a part ; 
Thou mad'st me what I am 

In human frame, and soul; 
Nor me Thou can'st not damn — 

Creator of the Whole! 
My reason is my guide 

In what I dare and do, 
The while I breast the tide 

Of changes, passing through; 
I nothing have to fear, 

Believing that, for me, 
Eternity is Here, 

And Immortality. 



43 



Here in Thy royal sway, 

While I before Thee bow, 
Each day the Judgment Day, 

My retribution, now. 
Of other world of bliss, 

Of other realm of woe, 
Save what is still of this, 

Am I somewhere to know ? 



44 



WICKEDNESS OF WAR 

What shame that nations draw their 
blades 
Across each other's throats! 
What shame that freemen shun 
their spades 
To man the murder boats 
That gore the bosom of the sea, 
In thy dear name, O Liberty! 

What crime to launch the floating 
forts, 
Crypts fit for cowards fell, 
Who, sneaking, peer from hooded 
ports 
To speed the deadly shell, 
And, with Satanic art deploy, 
That they the more may more 
destroy. 

What blasphemy to pray for God 
To curse a brother's cause : 

What mockery to blood the clod 
Whose crust pale Hunger gnaws! 

What sacrilege for orphans made 

To order by the murder-trade! 



45 



Cry "On!" ye demagogues from hell, 
Ye hawks that beak the dove ; 

And smile, ye hypocrites who tell 
Of Jesus and his Love. 

Gloat o'er your gory heaps of slain, 

Ye unregenerated Sons of Cain! 

Disciples of the Prince of Peace, 
How long, and yet how long, 

Ere war, unholy war, shall cease, 
Ere Right shall vanquish Wrong? 

When shall the Master's will be done 

And victory over war be won ? 



4 6 



LOVE 



THE HIDDEN DART 

Warm from Love's quiver in thy 

heart, 
I felt a tiny, rosy dart 
That, diamond-pointed, nearer drew 
And pierced my soul with thrill anew. 
I did not see that dart, that star 
Of Hesper's gleam, for brighter far 
Beamed th' effulgence of thine eyas 
As mine they met with sweet sur- 
prise, 
And lit thy bosom veiled aglow 
In graceful curve — blind Cupid's 

bow 
Whence to my breast had sped his 

lance — 
Of love — O Heart, with dart and 
glance! 



49 



THE LOVE SONG OF A SPRITE 

Than lisp of lilies that rejoice 

In whispered love their own, 
More gently breathed her dulcet voice 

So sweet in wooing tone — 
A rhythmic flow o'er tinkling bars 

That on my senses rang, 
And flashed like chant of twinkling 
stars 

When they together sang! 



50 



TO 

O would that I could render 
The homage I would pay, 
In language yet more tender, 

Heart, than I essay; 
But words me fail to measure 

My gratitude of heart, 
To thee, my Dear, my Treasure, 

1 would, in love, impart — 
Not love of swain all sighing 

In sentimental rhyme, 
But love in twain, undying, 
In poesy sublime. 



51 



"WHEN THIS YOU SEE, 
REMEMBER ME!" 

My Dear, my Love, my Sweet, my 

Own, 
How many years o'er us have flown 
Since first we met ? 
I love thee yet! 
Ah "weel I ken" those soft, brown 

eyes 
That looked on me with coy sur- 
prise — 
I'll ne'er forget, — 
I love them yet! 
Thy winsome smile 'round rosy 

cheek, 
Where blushes played at "hide-and- 
seek," 
I still enjoy 
Without alloy. 



52 



INCENSE 

I look into thine eyes 

And see my soul reflected there — 
Its clear and clouded skies 

In trust and truth beyond com- 
pare. 
For thou art part of me, 

That goodly part to which I turn, 
And where my heart I see 

All mirrored, on Love's altar burn. 



53 



THINE ADMIRING HAND 

The touch of thine admiring hand 

Enthralls my soul with sweet 
desire; 
So trustful at thy soul's command, 

I melt the while in holy fire — 
Thy kiss bestowed with loving zeal 

In spirit welds our hearts as one ; 
Nor rapture carnal this I feel, 

But souls in blissful unison. 



54 



HOPE'S PROMISE 

Precious! Call me, shouldst thou 
lose me 

When dark shadows round thee 
fall, 
When depressions dire distress thee, 

Or if Doubt doth thee enthrall; 
When thou needest inspiration, 

When thou cravest inward light, 
Or hath want of consolation ; 

And, like Day that comes to 
Night, 
I will come to thy assistance, 

Where in darkness thou doth 
grope, 
With my light, until in Distance 

Fear shall vanish, — I am Hope! 
Mine the star to Faith transcendant, 

Steadfast in yon Polar glim — 
Thine shall be, nor less resplendent, 

Thine, dear soul, Hope never dim. 



55 



LOVE AND THE LION 

What is the Lion in our frame, 

That Love fain would subdue ? 
The untamed torrent and the flame 

That from the heart rage through ? 
Can him Love bind with silken 
skein — 

The milder power span, — 
And rein him while she strokes the 
mane 

Of Passion caged in Man? 



56 



LOVE 

Love! What is love? Is it a flame, 
Or Nature by another name ? 
A babe that my twin query heard 
All smiling, uttered not a word! 
"Say! What is love, my little Miss?" 
Her answer was a hug and kiss. 
"Coy maiden, blushing in thy bower, 
Speak! What is love? Speak, pretty 

flower!" 
She answered from her floral cell: 
"I know, but do not care to tell." 
"Dear! What is love?" I asked my 

wife. 
"Love?" echoed she. "Why! love 

is life — 
Love is the boundless universe, 
Where, save for love, life were a 

curse." 
I asked a mother, ripe with age : 
"Pray, what is love? Read me its 

page 
In thy sealed book, prized more than 

gold!" 
"Twould be 'the old, old story' told 
Anew," said she; "its charm thy 

form 
With all a soul's affections warm." 

O Love! Thou art no fitful flame, 
But Nature by another name. 



57 



CHILDHOOD 



AN EPIGRAM 

Sweet babe, soul-blossom at thy birth 

Transplanted from fields of heaven, 
To grow 'mid weeds of sin on earth, 

And damned, if sullied, unforgiven : 
What didst thou there that sent 
thee here, 

When thou wast blossoming above, 
Where joy knows not the bitter tear ? 

Why staid thou not where all is 
love? 
Thou couldst not stay thy coming? — 
No? 

Immortal child of human heart, 
Nor wished to stay when called to go : 

O seed divine, God's counterpart! 



51 



TO BABY NORMA 

Bright bud, in white and pink and 
blue. 
Sweet amaranth, in flossy snow! 
Whose eyes the sky hath lent its hue, 
Whose cheeks are dashed with 
morning's glow, 
So dainty is thy lovely form — 
Methinks thou didst not spring 
from clay, 
But, Heaven-born, came with the 
charm 
Of Paradise, to stay alway! 



€2 



THE CHILD IS FATHER TO THE 

MAN 

In revery I was thinking, 

Thinking of the days of yore, 
When a baby, winking, blinking, 
Crept up to me on the floor, 
And uprising, 
Me surprising, 
"Daddy" said, and nothing more. 

"Daddy? I am not your daddy!" 

Answered I in puzzled thought ; 

Baby echoed, "I'm your daddy, 

"Though I'm but a tiny tot, 

"Wordsworth said so 

"And it is so. 

"Think you so, or think you not." 



63 



HUMOROUS 



A COUNTRY COURTSHIP 

The moon was like a locket bright 

And as it gayly swung, 
Resplendent from the neck of Night 

The jeweled stars among, 
Two lovers, sitting on a rail — 

A fence whereon they clung 
Together like a close reef'd sail — 

Talked in an unknown tongue. 

He was the Count de Stutterer, 

She, lisping Widow Prim; 
He'd set his heart on catching her, 

She'd set her cap for him; 
And much they said, and long they 
sat, 

The eagle and the dove, 
When broke the rail and both fell flat 

And so they fell in love ! 



67 



THE RIVALS 

Diana through the heavens wheeled, 

Her lovers were the stars, 
Her bow the crescent from her shield, 

Her darts the shining bars; 
And with her chariot of light, 

Her garb a jealous frown, 
This blonde pursued her rival Night, 

The coy brunette in gown. 



TO AN OLD MAID 

O yearning soul and hungry heart, 

There is somewhere in this wide 

sphere 

Thy complement — thine own part 

Which, though it seems not with 

thee here, 

Doth turn to thee, lone, like thou 

art — 
True as to pole the compass* dart. 

Afloat on Life's tempestuous sea, 
Launched like thou wast to cruise 
alone, 
There is a barque in search for thee 
That thou canst fondly claim 
thine own, 
When lo, the port of both shall be 
The haven of Felicity ! 



GIRLS OF MY BOYHOOD 

'Tis half a century since when 

I first began to know 
And love the country maidens then 

In girlhood's carnate glow; 
Those blithesome belles of town and 
farm 

Each lass a budding queen, 
Each natural in her grace and charm, 

Nor artificial mien. 



Naught is to me more sweet 
Than memory of the girls I met; 

And, when we hap to meet, 
I see the same dear girlish ways, 

And gladsome eyes . . . and tears, 
And feel the love of boyhood-blaze, 

O'er half a hundred years! 



70 



THE SLEIGH-RIDE 

Single, single; 
Jingle, jingle; 
Mingle, mingle; 
Tingle, tingle! 



71 



DOLLARS AND SENSE 

Ten get their living by their wits 

Where one through learning 
thrives; 
But they who have the rare tidbits, 

Get fortunes with their wives; 
To benedicts the luck thus brought 

Is not in pounds and pence ; 
True fortunes got with wives are not 

In dollars, but in sense. 



72 



HEARTBURN 

I sigh not for society — 

It does not satisfy; 
Nor do I crave variety 

My taste to gratify; 
I long for contrariety — 
To eat with due propriety, 

And all impunity 
Of onions to satiety 
Nor feel of sore anxiety 

Save for immunity ! 



73 



NATURE 



THE THREE BIRCHES 

Deep in the shadows of the wood, 

All on the mountain side, 
Three leaning silvered birches stood 
To guard the while and hide — 
Not treasure-trove, 
But sleeping Love. 



77 



MAY-DAY MORN 

Apple blossoms pink and white, 

Bedeck the orchard rows along, 
Where mating birds wake morning 
light 
With rhapsody of springtide song ; 
While bursting buds the while 
perfume 
The breezes bland that o'er them 
pass, 
And pearly petals, dropt from bloom, 
All starred with dewdrops, gem 
the grass; 
The chanticleer with clarion throat, 
The quacking duck and peacock 
gay, 
And turkey vain with gobbling note, 
Chime with the welkin rounde- 
lay, 
And clatter-clink of hoof and horn 
On pebbly path to stream and 
lea — 
All nature greets the May-day morn, 
The Springtide joy, Love's jubilee. 



78 



THE MARINER'S OBSERVATION 

There is a stillness fills the air, 

A silence so severe 
I feel a storm is brewing there 

Where sky yet seems so clear. 
But if what seems is truly so 

Why care for what I feel, 
Of storms that brew ? Why go below 

While yet on even keel ? 
Our bark is staunch, with rudder 
true, — 

And yet we'll reef the sail : 
Though storms ne'er break the while 
they brew, 

We'll be ready for a gale ! 



79 



TEMPEST-WRECKED 

I. 

See yon black billows grasp the clouds 
And drag them o'er the venge- 
ful sea, 
With groaning hulks and shrieking 
shrouds, 
While wolf-like lurks the snarl- 
ing lee ! 

II. 

Gaunt, ghastly crows in gruesome 
flight 
Caw o'er the flotsam of the 
wrecks — 
The shredded sails, the corpses white, 
The splinter'd spars, the stranded 
decks. 



so 



THE WHIPPOORWILL 

Hark! The whippoorwill is calling 

Plaintively in tuneless trill; 
Lo! the sunset shades are falling, 

Curtaining the tinkling rill, 
Hanging from the aspens sighing 

Ominously of their woes, 
Ambient where the night-hawks, 
flying, 

Stir the songbirds from repose. 

Night comes on with starlight 
teeming, 
Mantling mountain, vale and 
lake, 
Splendent in the moonbeams stream- 
ing- 
Jeweled where the ripples break! 
Comes, in all her glory shining, 
The expectant bride of Day ; 
Yet the whippoorwill, repining, 
Sombers all with saddened lay. 



81 



THE EGG OF THE MOCKING BIRD 

A chrysalid, with plumage pent, 

To burst in broidered feathering; 
A bud of soulful sentiment 

To bloom in rapture on the wing! 
Thy throatings are a mellow flute, 

And piping airs, and liquid trills; 
Their echoes wake the woodlands 
mute, 

And hush the murmur of the rills. 



82 



THE DRUMMING PARTRIDGE 

Here shall no more the partridge 

come — 
Yet, hark! Me thinks I hear him 

drum 
His trysting taps in sylvan shade, 
As is his wont for love's parade: 
With bated breath, and poised wings 
Vibrating, as he deftly brings 
Them to his breast, first clapping 

slow, 
In low crescendo strokes that grow 
Louder the while and faster still, 
Till with a rapt electric thrill, 
The muffled echoes of his thrum 
Resound in one sonorous hum. 

Now, watch! Alert to foil surprise, 
He stately stands with kindling eyes, 
And silent waits in eager mood 
The coming of his wary brood. 



83 



TO A FLEDGLING 

Blind birdling, naked as the hand 
That fonds thee, quivering in its 
clasp, 

An aspen in a zephyr bland, 

Dost shrink as from a giant's 
grasp ? 
I feel thy heart beat wondrous strong 
With life that throbs thy veins 
along. 
Ah! we are friends. Thou lift'st thy 
head, 
Thy hornless beak gapes with a 
smile 
As if expecting to be fed. 

Thou little beggar, mute the while, 
Soon shall thy voice love's prompt- 
ings feel 
And revel in ecstatic strain. 
Soon shall the filmy veils that seal 

Thy ruby orbs be rent in twain. 
With hesitating wings half raised 
I see thee, perched upon thy nest, 
Where the first beam of morn hath 
blazed 
A trail of light from crest to crest. 
And up, far up, beyond the blue 

Beyond the golden gates of dawn, 
Like other friends I fondly knew, 
In sunshine glimpsed, in shadow 
gone. 



84 



THE THUNDER HEADS 

Behold yon silvered thunder heads, 
The big-wigs near the setting sun, 
Where all serene the azure spreads 
Far o'er the evening's golden run: 
Yon fleece-capped mountains on the 
march, 
Yon monarchs with carnations 
crowned, 
Whose falchions leap from zone to 
arch, 
Whose lightnings flash with ne'er 
a sound ! 



85 



A SUMMER EVENING 

The stilly evening draws apace 

With darkling train and mant- 
ling hood 
That with their dreamy veilings 
grace 
The limnings of the hill and wood. 
The stealthy shadows drowse the 
dale 
And drape the bars of gold and 
gray 
Far down the stream that threads 
the vale 
Round which the twilight tintings 
play. 



86 



TWILIGHT 

How sweet the summer evening's 
close, 

The stilly, restful twilight hour, 
When peaceful Nature finds repose, 

Lulled by a dreamy, witching 
power 
So all-impelling in its sway 

That to its influence we yield, 
Surrend'ring all at close of day, 

With full desertion of the field. 
We lay our cares and banners down 

Like those who feel their work 
is done — 
That theirs tomorrow is the crown, 

And theirs today the victory won. 



87 



SUNSET 

The sunset glimmers on the stream, 

And shimmers through the wood 

Where shadows break the waning 

beam 

Of sunshine o'er the flood ; 
Bright clouds afloat in ambient blue 

Are mirrored from on high 
In placid pools of sable hue, 

Neath grassy shores anigh. 
And silently the sylvan eaves 

In emerald and gray 
Hang o'er the spell that Nature 
weaves 

And veil the gleaming day. 



88 



A SNOWFLAKE 

amaranth in feathered spray, 
Thou wast a dewdrop, heaven- 
distilled, 

Now fallen from the milky way, 
Art gemmed in filigree enchilled ; 

1 greet thee with as great delight 
As if thou wert a star of night. 



THE HARVESTING 

Night, lanterned o'er us, darked the 
dome 

That canopied the worlds below, 
While at our feet the ocean foam 

Disported with the ebb and flow, 
And tossed in garlands on the lee, 
The lily-blossoms of the sea. 

"O Muse!" quoth I, "what see'st 
thou 
In yon grand vista of the west ?' 
The southern zephyrs fanned her 
brow, 
Moist with the kisses from the 
crest 
Of the inrolling moonlit wave, 
What time she sweetly answer gave : 

"I see yon hiltless sickle swing 

The swaths of moonbeams leaning 
low, 
While gleaning waves the gavels 
bring 
O'er tiny hills with corn aglow — 
The golden harvesting at last 
Of bread upon the waters cast ! 



90 



"These zephyrs from the sunny 
clime 

I ween o'er stubble-fields set forth 
To filigree the girdling rime, 

And meet the breezes of the north 
That winnow on the crystal floe 
Their harvestings of downy snow ; 

"And on to that Boreal land, 

Whence Winter dark with chilly 
breath 
Soon must descend with icy hand 
And sow broadcast the seeds of 
death, 
Whose harvest mortals dread to reap, 
But yet is gleaned in windrows deep. " 



91 



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